


drowning in reverie (waiting for morning)

by jisungtheworld (winwinnie)



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: ;) Han Jisung, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Changeling Yang Jeongin, Dryad Kim Seungmin, Found Family, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prince Bang Chan, River Nymph Hwang Hyunjin, Sphinx Seo Changbin, Will-o'-the-Wisp Lee Felix, Witch Lee Minho | Lee Know, autistic-coded changbin, it's more ot8 than chan centric, no spoilers here~
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27179485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winwinnie/pseuds/jisungtheworld
Summary: It begins with a baby being born, and it ends on a sunny day. That's all he's been given, though the other words of the prophecy foretold at his birth will haunt him forever.Find the seven others. Hold them, lips against wrists, and weep. When the second Son of Roses bleeds as red as his name, evil will be cast away.At the end of the prophecy, Chan dies.(or: chan finds the family he was fated to die amongst, and manages to fall in love with them anyway)
Relationships: Bang Chan/Everyone, Han Jisung | Han/Everyone, Hwang Hyunjin/Everyone, Kim Seungmin/Everyone, Lee Felix (Stray Kids)/Everyone, Lee Minho | Lee Know/Everyone, Seo Changbin/Everyone, Yang Jeongin | I.N/Everyone
Comments: 46
Kudos: 143





	1. prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fic title from Angela by Flower Face. 
> 
> enjoy!

The baby was born without any trouble.

It didn't seem strange, in the beginning. This was the Queen's second child, it made sense that this birth should be easier than the first. She'd been prepared for the pain this time around, all dosed up with medicines prepared especially.

After last time, no one wanted to take any chances. Her previous experience of childbirth had _not_ been pleasant - a blood-stained affair, that spanned several days and hadn't granted her a single moment of relief. No one had batted an eyelid at her request. There had been a collective agreement that something to reduce the sound of her screams would do nothing but good.

And yet, the screams never came.

The second child came without a fuss. The doctors delivering had stared down as the child hadn't even cried. His lips were plump, his hair curly and plastered to the top of his head, his skin still pink. And yet he'd done nothing but stare back up at them, big eyes blinking along to an unseen rhythm. He'd seemed like the perfect child. 

Later, they'd say that they knew something was wrong immediately.

But they hadn't. They'd been so caught up in their secret sighs of relief that no one had though twice before handing the child back over to the Queen. The baby had been passed from arms to arms just as silent as the moment he'd arrived in the world.

When he finally settled against his mother's chest, she hadn't mentioned a thing either, brushing her fingers through those familiar dark curls. 

He looked just like her, she decided. Not a baby girl like she'd been silently hoping for, but as good enough of a compromise as it could be. 

His name was to be Bang Chan. 

For about an hour, the world would be just as quiet as the baby. Footsteps never hit the ground, despite the feet above them moving just as normal. Every clock was muffled, not that anyone was paying enough attention to notice. When the Queen's first son pushed over a vase, the pieces might well have never fallen. Shards of porcelain were soon to be forgotten, anyway.

An hour was all they were given before the Darkness arrived.

It came in great swathes of shadows, creeping up the windows and seeping into the soil. The castle groaned under the weight of such evil. The stones were white, and the dark kiss of something malicious would stain them grey for years to come. 

As the country watched with horror, the sky clouded over. Thick thunderclouds hung low, brushing the very tips of the castle's spires and coating the world in a distorted night-time. The air was heavy with electricity, and the whole world held its breath. Waiting for something, though they were not sure what.

The evil was most concentrated in the Queen's room.

By now, the King had come to join her, and the two of them stood silent at the foot of the bed. The room was as full as it had been when the baby had been born - with doctors and nurses and potioneers and servants, all who'd been kept captive with the excitement and now wished they'd had the good idea to leave. Their mouths were pressed closed, but not from free will.

The world had to be silent when the Darkness spoke.

It was the familiar twisting tongues of a prophecy. The kind of words that were made of vines, the wilting edges of a rose, the deepest crimson of blood on a white marble floor. It reached though every listening ear and whispered the same words, but never once took its eyes away from the sleeping child in front of it. 

_Find the seven others_ , said the voice, _no two the same. Each with a crown of vices, and each shall be healed. Hold them, lips against wrists, and weep._

Maybe it was finished. The Queen's face was damp, eyes red and cheeks aflame. The King was frozen in place, the silver tip of his blade only a centimetre away from the stone cobbled floor. Their cries never left their mouths. Their pleas were wasted on the limits of their tongues. 

The city stared up at the castle in a state of half-curiosity and fear. Their minds buzzed with rumours already. The news of the birth had not yet escaped the walls of the palace, but the Queen was known to have been heavy with child. They wondered what could have happened, and whether the walls of the castle were just as cold as the world outside.

Further, the confusion rose with the fear. The rivers had stopped their dance to revel in the silence, and all the creatures of the depths heard the same set of words, despite their heads being underwater. The sands of the deserts stopped shifting, revealing hidden cities for the first time in a millennium. The forests that were usually alive with sounds bent and bowed their branches in mourning, for the trees were older and wiser than any of the creatures that inhabited them. Marshes and villages alike wept the same tears.

The courts, both seelie and unseelie, tangled like vines with each uttered syllable of the words, the first mumbled motions of a truce planted like seeds into their minds. Sharp teeth weren't as affected by the silence as the world above. 

The baby blinked up at the Darkness. 

_When the second Son of Roses bleeds as red of his name, evil will be cast away._

The world came crashing back into sound. The Queen's tears fell with clarity, and the swinging of the King's sword hit against an empty wall. Their hearts were louder than any of their hopes for forgiveness, because they'd known that there was nothing that could save their child as soon as the sky had turned black. What had once been love had soured like milk, as rotten on their tongues as their pleas when faced with the Darkness.

The world turned to face the city. The city turned to face the castle. The room turned to face the child. 

Bang Chan, the silent baby, began to cry. 


	2. april showers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i haven't written in past tense for literal Years, please point out (or pretend you never saw lmao) any mistakes so i can correct them!

The day was cold and frosty, and Chan couldn't help but shiver as he knelt on the ground. 

Just his luck. It was cold enough that the jacket he wore was doing an awful job at keeping him warm, and just warm enough that the body heat from his knees had melted the mud beneath him - seeping through the legs of his trousers and causing him to shiver even more. The sky was clear, though, and a harsh, unforgiving shade of blue.

Chan was cold, if the shivering wasn't clue enough. He should have worn something thicker than his jacket, but he'd been in a rush to get out of the castle that morning, and hadn't stopped to pick up anything more suited for the weather. It was Spring, anyway. He'd hardly expected another frost this late into the season, but once again the skies had betrayed him.

He'd _only just_ uncovered the rose bushes last week, as well.

It should probably have been the job of one of the gardeners - they'd know the weather with a much better accuracy than Chan - but they'd barely kept him conversation enough to tell him that this cold snap was expected to last throughout the week. And even then, those were the gardeners that met his eyes. 

The rest acted like he didn't exist. They scuttled like mice when he opened the door to the rooms of gardening supplies, and left the rose bushes to wilt and die when Chan wasn't around to tend to them. 

As if by pruning the flowers that he cared for, they'd somehow catch his curse.

Everything led up to Chan having to re-cover the roses on his own, shivering in the early spring sun, frost seeping through the knees of his trousers and lips coloured white with cold. His hands shook as he worked, but it was better to focus. If he looked behind him, he knew he wouldn't like what he saw.

For all the gardeners and servants tried to escape ever crossing Chan's path, they certainly loved to stare at him when they thought he wouldn't notice. Like he was a creature in a cage. He didn't look back; not because he was ashamed of their stares - no, he was used to that - but because the hatred in their eyes made him feel emotions that he knew he wasn't supposed to. 

This was his fate, and it had been since his birth. 

Chan was used to the stares and the fear, that was simply the way that life was. They had their right to be afraid. When Chan was younger, he'd barely been able to look at himself in reflections, so afraid that one day he'd seen an all-consuming darkness there instead. Then he'd realised that he'd been seeing the darkness all along, and he couldn't find the energy to fear inevitability anymore. 

The first sign that he knew something was wrong was when the eyes staring at the back of his head disappeared. Joined by the crunching of footsteps on frosted grass - maybe they didn't care if he knew they were watching or not - Chan straightened his back. One set of footsteps was much slower than the rest, much more deliberate. And most importantly, they were headed straight for him.

Slowly, Chan turned around. He tried to keep his face a neutral as possible - he'd found that that was the most successful way of communicating with those that were terrified of the darkness inside him - and looked up at the servant standing a few feet away from him.

That was as close as they dared to get. They avoided looking at him, staring directly at the frost-covered ground. When Chan had turned, they'd flinched by an impressive amount. "Si- sir, you've been summoned to the throne room."

It wasn't particularly professional, and with none of the information that Chan would have liked to have received. But he couldn't complain. He was just grateful that he'd been spoken to like he was human, even if the servant had barely finished their sentence before running in the other direction. He was grateful, because he knew the reality of what was worse.

He'd experienced it all.

But now wasn't the time to think about that. It was simply reality, and nothing Chan could ever do would change that. He'd come to terms with it a long time ago. Instead, it would be much more productive to focus on what the servant _had_ managed to say. He'd been summoned to the throne room?

It had to be his parents, no one else had the power to order him around. As much as the castle liked to pretend that he wasn't a prince, they couldn't change his royal title by fear alone. 

Of course, he was only a prince in title alone. He had the luxurious lifestyle, but none of the respect or power. He'd never take the throne, that would just be foolish. It simply wasn't prophesised. 

Well, that was enough contemplating for one day. If Chan started to think about fate and what could have been, he'd be here all day. It was a dangerous train of thoughts. If his parents had wanted him in the throne room, they were expecting him soon. He didn't want to make them wait; it simply wouldn't be fair.

He stood up, brushing the residual crystals of frost from the knees of his trousers. It was not much use, they're soaked through, but it's the meaning behind the action that counts. Maybe it was better that he's not a 'true' prince, they couldn't be more disappointed with him than they were already. 

With that thought on his mind, he started to make his way to the throne room.

The castle was maze of corridors, but Chan had lived there his entire life. He knew the layout like the back of his hand. Mostly through trial and error - he'd gotten lost plenty of times when he was younger, and no one had helped him find his way - but that just meant he'd never lose his way again. He knew the quickest way to get to his parents, and no one even stood in his way. The corridors in front of him were always empty, and the sound of his footsteps were accompanied by the sound of slamming doors just ahead of him.

He was half-expecting to see his brother on his path to the throne room, but a blessing in disguise that his journey went uninterrupted.

It didn't hurt to see fear in the servants’ eyes, he'd realised long ago that they were fully within their right to run when they saw him approach. Seeing the same terror in his brother's eyes was different, however.

Chan had never quite made peace with that. 

He turned the last corner to the throne room, pulling his jacket slightly in an attempt to make himself look slightly more presentable. He took a deep breath, clearing his mind of any lingering worries or thoughts, and stepped into the hall.

Immediately, he tried to ignore the way that his heart dropped.

Inside, his parents were watching his every move. The throne room was long - all stone walls and tiled floors, rectangular and pointing towards the two seats right at the furthest point from the door. There were thick, expensive carpets on either side of what Chan had always thought of as a 'walkway', a stretch of tiles purposely left bare. It made his footsteps ring out. There was no way to enter the throne room quietly, and that was the entire point. 

The length of the room gave his parents enough time to look him up and down, taking in the muddy knees of his trousers and sneer at the pin-prick scratches on his fingers. Chan's mother began to sigh in disappointment, but caught herself before it became too obvious. Backs straightening, smiles plastered onto their faces.

No matter how many times they'd told him they loved him, Chan could always sense something else beneath their words. 

He'd long since given up expecting anything else.

"You called for me?"

He reached the end of the 'walkway' and kneeled down in front of the two thrones, keeping his head bowed down. It was respectful. He couldn't remember at what point in his life he'd been expected to treat his parents like any other person would, but he had to agree that it was easier this way.

There was a hardly a point in expecting them to treat him like a prince when they could see the darkness inside of him. It simply wouldn't be fair.

And so, Chan kept his head bowed in respect, and tried to pretend that he liked it better that way.

"We did." Chan's father spoke, and his voice was loud. "Look up. This is important."

Chan raised his head slowly. Important? What could that mean? He'd so rarely been called to the throne room like this before that he had no idea of what to expect. Maybe he should have asked his brother when he'd passed him earlier. He'd been treated like a prince - of course, as it would only be right for the future ruler of the country - and so he'd have a much better idea of what was going on.

Of course, he wouldn't have been in this situation in the first place. And he likely wouldn't have replied to Chan. Just like the servants and the citizens of the country, his eyes widened with fear when he saw Chan approaching. When they were younger, he'd apologised for it, shared his toys and smiled as happily as he could, but even then, it hadn't been genuine. He was afraid of what Chan could to do him. 

"Your father and I have been talking." His mother's voice was softer, but not by much. She used to look at him with love in her expression, like she believed he could be more than the prophecy. At some point, that had changed. "The world outside these walls is changing. Something is stirring."

In the end, it always came back to the prophecy. "You think it's because of me?" Chan asked, hoping his voice didn't sound too choked up. "I-"

"We've already made our decision" 

"It does not matter whether the current events are anything to do with you," his father continued, in a manner that said that they were sure of his involvement. "What matters is that we stop the darkness before it spreads too far. You are to fulfil the prophecy, Chan. It is your birth right."

Had they realised they were still smiling? Was it such an immediate reaction to seeing their second son that they hadn't realised those polite grins were still plastered over their faces? Or did they simply not care that they were sending him to his death.

It was his birth right. It was what had been foretold for him, right from the moment he'd been born.

Chan's stomach was turning. It seemed unreal that he was to be sent away so soon, and yet he couldn't find it within himself to argue. It was always have going to have ended like this, nothing he could have done would have changed that. He'd known he were to die like this since he was a child. He was prepared. 

The only thing that mattered was that he tried his best. 

"It's better that you leave as soon as possible. No chances can be taken."

"As you wish." Hopefully it would be enough. Sure, it stung that they wanted to get rid of him so quickly, but Chan understood where they were coming from. He'd been raised his entire life knowing that he could be sent off on the quest at any moment. Really, he was just thankful that he'd been granted this much time at home.

(Whatever he did, he refused to think about the way his heart missed a beat every so often. The lurch in his stomach when he thought about leaving the castle, and the way his eyes teared up at the knowledge of his own impending doom. It was for the sake of the rest of the world. Why did he feel so uneasy?)

He couldn't blame his parents. He couldn't blame his brother. He couldn't blame the servants in the castle, nor could he blame the citizens of the country.

All that was left was to blame himself, and yet Chan couldn't do that either. Long ago, he'd decided he was going to live every moment of his life to the fullest. He was going to ignore the fearful looks, and he was going to lift his chin in pride. He'd never actually gotten around to being so selfish, but somewhere inside of him that honour refused to curl up and die.

His mother nodded, pleased with his answer. "You have the rest of the night to gather your belongings. We've instructed the stables to prepare your horse for the morning, but it falls upon your shoulders to gather the other supplies you may need."

"Of course."

Tomorrow morning was so soon. It was so far from 'of course' that Chan had to bite his lip to keep him from saying so. His parents looked at him such contempt - such _understandable contempt_ \- that he wasn't quite sure whether holding his tongue had actually worked. 

He opened his mouth to excuse himself (not because of the strange feeling in his gut, his own mirroring contempt whenever he thought about the fact that his parents no longer saw him as their child) but never quite had the time to form the words.

There was a crash from behind him.

He saw the change in his parents faces before he realised what had happened. 

Their forced smiles dropped. Just like that, their eyes left his face and went to the back of the hall, staring at something behind Chan. His mother's eyes widened, her lip curling in a most unsavoury way. His father looked like he was about to stand up, thick and angry frown lines appearing on his forehead. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Most strange of all was the expression in their eyes.

Whilst their faces conveyed shock, maybe guilt at having been caught trying to rush Chan away, their eyes told a different story entirely.

Fear.

It was a familiar sight to Chan, that's why he recognised it so quickly. He wasn't a stranger to the quiver of a bottom lip, the paling of skin as he turned a corner, the slight tremble in hands and heart. He'd seen in before in his own parents, looking right at him. And he was seeing it again now.

They didn't look like they were about to continue their instructions any time soon, so Chan decided to take a chance in turning around to see what had caught their attention. He'd only just walked through that very hall himself - there wasn't much that could have changed in such a short period of time, was there?

He realised his mistake as soon as his eyes hit the figure standing in front of the huge oak doors.

That's what it was - a figure. It certainly explained the initial annoyance in his parents' features. No one was allowed to interrupt the royal family, unless they had a death wish. When the heavy doors were shut, it was a sign throughout the castle that they were not to be opened again until the king ordered it so. Seeing them thrown open so carelessly - that must have been the sound from earlier - and by a stranger nonetheless, would certainly cause them to become angry.

It did not, however, explain the fear.

The figure stepped forward, further into the light, and with ever-increasing confusion, Chan realised that they were young. 

Maybe a few years younger than Chan himself, although the glimmer in the figure's eyes betrayed that maybe he was younger still. There was a hood up over his head, combined with the dim light of the throne room meaning that his eyes were all that anyone could make out. He didn't look physically intimidating, in the slightest, but something in the way Chan's parents had frozen kept him alert. 

There was something suspicious going on here. Not for the first time, Chan was left feeling like an outsider to his own life.

"Trying to leave without me?

The boy's voice wasn't what Chan was expecting, and yet it strangely seemed to fit the sparkle in his eyes. He took another step forward. There was rain on the shoulders of his cloak. It hadn't been raining outside when Chan has been tending to the roses, and the sky certainly hadn't seemed like it was going to cloud over any time soon. 

That wasn't even starting to think about what the boy meant with his words. 

There was the rustling of clothes behind him. Chan's father stood up, but his expression was devoid of the normal anger that lurked there. Despite the stranger's teasing words, there was nothing his father could do. He looked scared, let, but also defeated in strange way.

"We were simply beginning to discuss travel arrangements." Chan's father's voice was clipped and as cold as steel. "I see no reason why you should need to be here."

The boy took another step forward, edging towards them. His hands went up to the back of his hood, ready to pull it down. "Don't play games with me. Did you forget the deal?"

Chan's mother was quick to stand up as well, her hand on her husband's shoulder. But despite her efforts to diffuse the situation, her eyes never left the hooded figure. Her hands were still shaking, even moments after the initial interruption. Whoever the boy was, Chan wasn't sure he wanted to know anymore.

"Of course not." Chan's mother's voice was just as cold, but she managed to mask her distaste much more successfully. She stepped forward, matching the boy in pace, and raised her chin in superiority. "But need I remind you that you're no longer in the Courts? Whilst you're in this castle, it should do you good to remember that."

The boy hummed in response. His boots were as wet as his shoulders, leaving shining footsteps behind him. Chan watched as he pulled down his hood, mouth dry.

Even from a distance, it was clear that something seemed off about the boy - and it was definitely a boy now that his face was no longer obscured. His face seemed to shift slightly, or maybe his eyes were tricking him. Maybe his hair didn't gleam in the light enough, maybe it shone too much. His fingers were too long, or were they too short? And his eyes-

The realisation hit him like a tidal wave.

All at once, Chan realised that there was something much more obviously strange. It was like he could only see now that he was properly paying attention, but once he looked closer, the boy's hair seemed to be made of... twigs? His eyes that had seemed so glittering, now reminded him of shiny black buttons. When the boy smiled - looking directly at Chan - his teeth were just a little too pointed. 

Chan had risen to his feet without even realising it. It seemed fitting, since he had been the only not standing, but every movement felt more and more like it was part of a dream. His mouth was dry when he spoke. "Who are you?"

For the first time, the boy looked like he'd been taken off-guard. He looked right past Chan, all the way to where the king and queen were making their way to stand on either side of their son. His features were quickly schooled back into their previous air of nonchalance, but it was too late. They'd all seen the flashes of emotion: shock, realisation, and then disgust.

What did he have to be disgusted at?

"Chan." His father's voice was low, just as dangerous despite being no longer aimed at the stranger. His eyes just as fearful. "This is the first of your seven companions. Jeongin."


	3. a crowd with no faces

"What?"

It was the only word that seemed to fit the severity of the situation. Chan's mind had completely stopped working - stopped frozen in a moment of time, stuck replaying the last few moments over and over again. He didn't stop to consider that he may have seemed disrespectful. He didn't stop to think that his mouth was even opening to do more than gasp for air.

Looking closer, it was obvious why Jeongin was here.

The twigs in his hair, the black-button eyes and the face that never seemed to stay exactly the same. Chan hadn't been further than the city he'd grown up in for a long time, but he'd read plenty of books on the species that lived further from human inhabitancies. Within moments of actually concentrating, Chan could identify exactly why Jeongin was the first of his seven companions.

He was Fae.

Not that it really narrowed it down. There were many types of Fae - separated into the Seelie and Unseelie courts at the most basic level, and then even deeper rifts between those who lived there still. 

The books hadn't been the most informative. Fae didn't have the best reputations, and they had a nasty habit of causing the humans researching them to disappear under mysterious circumstances. They were dangerous, dark and kept themselves to the shadows. They were both black and white at the same time - and each as deadly as the other. 

They didn't have good track records of collaborating with anyone other than themselves, so the books had said. They were evil to their very cores (much like Chan himself - maybe that's why he'd found himself unable to stop reading) and malicious even to those who helped them. They were to be kept at arm’s length at all times, and a very heavy emphasis on hanging iron scissors had been placed.

Jeongin was undeniably Fae. He had the shifting features, but there was something different about him at the same time. He wasn't quite as bright as the books had described, and he certainly seemed more mortal than any of the drawings Chan had studied.

His hair was made of twigs, his pupils were so large that there was no iris left, and the blush of cold staining his cheeks seemed more like the colour of winter berries than anything else.

He was a changeling.

That was what Chan came to the conclusion of, having finally worked up the courage to look up from the floor again after his outburst earlier. The room had fallen silent, thick with a tension that formed a lump in his throat. They were waiting for him; they'd heard the anger in his voice and they'd been _scared._

It didn't make him feel good. Maybe it should have, it was what he was used to, after all. But there was nothing in Chan's heart except the familiar burning guilt of existence, and the unbearable need to explain himself.

"I-" he started, hoping that he sounded calmer this time around. "I thought I'd get to find my seven companions myself."

He looked across from Jeongin, back to his mother and father. It was useless to hope that they'd see the regret in his eyes, the confusion that had made him speak out like that. He got what he expected: the harsh glares of people who didn't want to admit they were afraid.

They chose to act like he'd never spoken out. Chan's racing heart - still not having taken in the information fully - couldn't quite let go quite as easily.

"There was a deal made," his father said, looking Chan right in the eyes. Maybe it was to show that he wasn't scared, that he truly believed that he'd made the right decision by not telling Chan any of this beforehand. That seemed most likely. Chan had never seen his father back down before, ever. "When you were born."

"The prophecy was the catalyst to this agreement," Chan's mother nodded along, "You have to understand that."

What, so it was his fault that he'd been left out of plans for his future? If he hadn't been born with the darkness inside of him, they wouldn't have been forced to agree to the terms in the first place?

It was a strange spin to place onto the turn of events, but Chan could bow his head and understand where they were coming from. It wasn't wrong to place the blame onto him, despite the fact that he'd only been a baby when the deal was made. Surely it was his fault, because no matter how he looked at it, he was still evil. The words of the prophecy still remained true; if he were to die, then the kingdom would be saved.

It couldn't get much simpler than that. 

"The Fae courts approached us first. They requested one thing: that when the time came for you to-" his father's voice trailed off. He may have been brash with his words, but he wasn't cruel. He couldn't quite get the words out, not when Chan was right in front of him. "If they could send one of their representatives as one of the 'seven others' from the prophecy, they'd halt all involvement with human affairs."

"Think about it," his mother said, earnestly, "Your entire life - there hasn't been a single incident of Fae tampering! You wouldn't know what it was like before, of course, but we've made so much progress because of the deal."

Chan couldn't help it. Despite the teeth biting down onto his bottom lip, the hurt in his chest bubbles over and escapes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

That was it. That was all he cared about. The deal, the fact that he _couldn't even choose who would be surrounding him at the moment of his death_ , none of that was important. He could see why his parents had made the decisions they had; it was exactly the same set of decision he'd have made himself.

(Were they? Would he ever have been in this situation himself, if he'd been dealt the same set of cards? He wasn't sure he was entirely truthful when he said he could put himself in the same position, he wasn't sure he'd ever have it in him.)

(Maybe that was why he was the one filled with darkness, not them.)

"Are you challenging me?"

Chan's heart dropped. That's not what he had meant, of course it wasn't what he'd meant. He'd simply been overwhelmed. "No- That's not what I meant-"

"There are some decisions we make in your absence," his mother said, "for your own good. You understand that, Chan?"

There was an unspoken threat to her words. The fear in her eyes hadn't changed, but the edges of the terror had been channelled into something else. She was simply using the cold tone of her syllables to mask it. 

It said that he wasn't trusted to make his own decisions. They all knew about the shadows that clouded his heart - why should he be allowed to decide his own future, when it had been so cleanly mapped out in front of him. He could try to change it; he could submit to the darkness. It simply made sense that they would take all control he might have had over the situation out of his hands. 

He nodded, silently, but maybe they could tell it wasn't real. 

Well, his parents couldn't. If they'd stop staring at him with such loathing for more than a couple of seconds, maybe they'd finally see past themselves for once. For all the time that he'd spent in the castle - for the fact that he was their _son_ \- only one person could see past the obvious lie.

Jeongin scoffed. Such insolence - it was Fae down to the very core of the action. "If it makes you feel better," he said, addressing Chan directly and completely ignoring the presence of the two other people in the room, "my selection to be the representative was entirely down to chance."

Chan's confusion ebbed away slightly, half amused by Jeongin's lack of care for the rules of social etiquette and half thinking over his words. 

Yes, that would make sense. A changeling hardly seemed like the proper representative for either the seelie or the unseelie courts - let alone in the rare case that they were working together. Chan's situation transcended hatred, he supposed. Now that they had something else to think about, someone else's demise to try and manipulate towards their own desires, they'd finally stopped fighting with each other.

It was a temporary peace, of course. As soon as Chan's eyes shut for the last time, he had no doubt that they'd immediately begin to use whatever benefits his death had brought the world against each other. If they hadn't started planning already, of course.

But it made sense that they'd select a representative randomly.

The peace wouldn't last through the decision of whether to send someone from the seelie or unseelie courts. There'd be cries of corruption before the name had even been announced. They couldn't send someone from both - the rules of the prophecy were clear on that, and despite the differences in the two courts, all subspecies were still united under the name of Fae. 

The fact that it was more of a lottery system took away all the pressure. He would assume that they banned any of the more influential figures on both sides from entering, and that the selection chose from a group of people that were not directly affiliated or biased to either of the courts.

Changelings, despite being looked down upon by most of the Fae for often being raised in human families, were disconnected from the politics enough to be called unbiased. They had experience with humans - sometimes more limited than others - and didn't carry the same aura of chaos as some of the stronger Fae. 

The room was still silent. Chan looked around - and upon seeing that all eyes were still on him - realised that his nod hadn't been confirmation enough. He doubted that they had anything else to tell him, and he'd already made his parents uncomfortable enough simply from being in the same room as them for so long. They'd dismiss him as soon as he apologised, he was sure of it.

"I understand."

His father sat up straighter, basically confirming Chan's theory. "Very well. This must come as a shock, so you shall be excused."

_Leave_ , remains unspoken, hanging in the air. _Take the changeling with you._

"May I have permission to leave?" Chan asked. For all intents and purposes, he'd rather stay and ask some more questions. But that wasn't what his parents wanted. They couldn't wait for him to leave the room - and if it weren't for their precious impression on the Fae, they would have done so a long time ago. "I'll require time to prepare for tomorrows journey. And, if you grant it, I'd like to take some time to acquaint myself with... Jeongin."

"Of course." His father raised his hand into the air, "You're dismissed."

Maybe he had wanted to leave, because the next thing Chan knew, he was already in the hallway outside the throne room. His legs were in full-motion, and the changeling was trailing behind him. They walked in silence. It wasn't a long journey to Chan's bedroom, and it took even less time for him to start packing.

He didn't have many items. Nothing was sentimental - the idea of sentimentality was mostly ruined by the knowledge of your own incoming death - and any trinkets he had now were surely useless on his journey. The list of what he needed to take was rather short: his books, clothes, and the occasional item that he couldn't bring himself to accept never seeing again.

Instead, Chan used the time to take in the expression of the Fae boy.

He seemed curious, more than anything. The castle was a setting that he must not have visited before - since he seemed to spend most of his time taking in the view from the window. He hadn't looked away from the glass since they'd arrived, perched on the soft chair that sat nearest. 

Maybe mischievous, as well. That was the overwhelming impression that Chan had taken from the books he'd read, once he'd looked past the rumours and darkened tales. The way Jeongin's eyes glittered certainly seemed to back up that conclusion. 

But he also seemed... shy? That wasn't quite the right word use. Unsure, maybe, or simply just hesitant. Chan had gotten quite good at reading people's expressions over the years. It had been easy to look past the false bravado from when he'd first entered to throne room.

The question was hanging in the air before he'd even realised he'd opened his mouth to speak. 

"Where are you staying?"

It was a simple question, with a simple motivation behind it. Chan wanted to know if it was nearby. His parents might have been cruel (even if he couldn't work out what would have been crueller - placing Jeongin in the bedroom next to him, or putting them at opposite ends of the castle), so was better to ask now and make sure. They were likely to keep talking, right? 

He'd need to show Jeongin back to his own room at some point, probably. None of the servants wanted anything to do with any even associated with Chan. Even if Jeongin wasn't Fae, and didn't have any of the stereotypes hanging over his shoulders that came with that label, Chan was sure that they'd have difficulty finding anyone to take him back to his room.

He wasn't expecting Jeongin to frown. 

"Staying?"

"Well, yes." Chan sat up now, suddenly paying much more attention to the conversation than he had been before. He'd stopped packing, preferring to keep his eyes trained on Jeongin's expression instead. It wasn't like he was looking at him to realise. "My parents must have placed you somewhere. To sleep."

He was met with more silence. In the lack of an answer, it seemed only right that he kept trying to explain. Maybe it was something that wasn't shared across cultures - even if none of the books Chan had read on Fae had ever mentioned anything like this. "They might have given you the name of a wing, and then expected me to find you a spare room, I suppose."

But Jeongin was already shaking his head. "Nothing like that," he said, "At least, not that I was aware of."

Maybe his parents had given Jeongin instructions of where to sleep. Maybe he'd just misheard, or he'd forgotten, or he simply hadn't understood that that was what they were telling him.

But deep-down Chan knew that none of those scenarios were the case. They simply didn't care about the changeling. They might not have even considered giving him somewhere to sleep - rumours said that unseelie Fae were most awake in the night, and he doubted his parents had much of a comprehension of the differences between the two courts - but they might simply have not cared at all.

It wasn't a stretch to think that they laughed at the thought of Jeongin wandering the halls for the night. Maybe they'd expected him to sleep in the cold, stone corridors, or that he'd join the servants in their rooms. 

Or they hadn't even thought about the situation at all.

"Oh." Chan tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible, but he knew that he couldn't stop all of the worry from seeping in. Even if he'd only just met the boy, it didn't seem right to treat him like nothing. Even if he was a changeling, he surely didn't deserve that.

(It didn't cross Chan's mind that he didn't want the boy to be treated the same way that he had been. Even as Jeongin watched him, coming to that conclusion by himself, that wasn't the true motivation behind Chan's actions.)

"I'm sure they meant to allocate you somewhere," he said "But with your dramatic entrance, it's likely that they just forgot."

Jeongin huffed. He finally looked away from the window, drawing his arms and legs back up to himself. The action only made him look even smaller - even younger. Chan found himself opening his mouth to speak again before he could even realise what was happening.

"You should stay here, then."

That certainly got Jeongin's attention. For the first time since they'd entered Chan's room, he finally looked at him, confusion written all over his face. Not just confusion, but something else as well. As if he couldn't believe how stupid, how foolish Chan was being. "Pardon?"

It was too late to back out now, and even then, Chan finds himself not wanting to. "I don't think it would be right for us to sleep in the same bed, of course, but-" he gestured towards the long, cushioned chair that Jeongin was currently sat on, "- surely that would suffice for one night?"

Jeongin looked down, as if seeing it for the first time. He unwrapped his hands from around his body, pushing down onto the soft cushioned material tentatively. 

He wasn't worried about the quality of the night's sleep he would get; Chan was sure of that. Despite not ever being close enough to anyone to hear the nasty rumours that circulated, he wasn't completely ignorant of what people said. What they said about him, and then what they said about the various other species of the world. Anyone that wasn't exactly like them.

Chan had read books on Fae. He knew that they were likely to be biased, and he tried to keep an open mind whenever learning about them. They'd told him that the Fae courts - both seelie and unseelie - had a strong connection with the world around them. It was likely that Jeongin had spent time sleeping outdoors, without even shelter to shield him from the weather. 

No, it was more likely that they were both thinking about the... other side of the rumours.

The darker side. The one filled with spite and hatred. 

Chan knew what they said about Fae.

But he kept his face expressionless, focusing back on his packing. 

He knew what they said about him, as well. If he were to trust the boy with his life, it would surely be enough to share the room with him for the night. It wouldn't be right to cast him away, and it would be easier come morning if they were already close together. It was the correct action to take, and Chan didn't even stop to realise that no one else would have come to that same conclusion.

Jeongin didn't look away. He didn't reply either, he didn't really need to. Instead, he leant back into the chair, more comfortable now that it had been given to him for the night, and his button-eyes sparkled in the low candle light. They were ever so dark, Chan thought. Ever so easy to drown in. 

Jeongin looked at him, and smiled with his slightly-too-pointed teeth. With his twig-like hair, the beetle-black of his eyes, the berry stain of his cheeks. "You're a strange man, Bang Chan," he said.


	4. the longer that you have to wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i genuinely don't know what's going on with this writing style. just suffer through this chapter and then in the next one, things might Actually Happen

  
They lay there in darkness.

Chan couldn't sleep. His thoughts swept through his mind like a sort, bringing dark clouds of uncertainty and thundering roars of fear. His blankets felt too warm, despite the frost that certainly covered the windows. His heart was beating much too fast for him to feel comfortable, and try as he might, the storm in his mind would not ebb away.

It was all well and good to pretend that he was fine during the sunlight hours, but the night was a completely different story.

He was convinced that Jeongin was awake as well. 

The boy - yes, Chan was sure that he was still a boy, despite the Faes' penchant for eternally youthful looks - was turning over far too many times for someone sleeping. 

It didn't help that chair wasn't meant for such movement. The wooden backrest creaked every time he shifted; the sound awfully loud in the otherwise-silent room. A small slither of moonlight was visible from between Chan's curtains. It fell long and illumination across the floor, lighting up the smallest part of Jeongin's chin and continuing across to Chan's elbows. 

So, when Jeongin's eyes opened, Chan noticed immediately.

They reflected the light much in the same way that an animal might, although not with nearly as much vigour. It was more of a reflection in itself. As if the moonlight was shining across a great lake, Chan thought to himself, or even just a puddle.

He didn't bother to close his own eyes. Why would he? He wasn't sure that any etiquette could apply to the situation he found himself in, and Jeongin was just as awake as he was. He often found himself like this - tired, cold without a single care for the spiteful words that haunted him in the day - when such storms wouldn't leave his mind. 

"You're awake."

Jeongin looked at him as he said that. Chan didn't look away, despite that perhaps being what the Fae had wanted. The room was still quiet, despite his words. It was still safe, calm like the eye of the most ferocious winds.

Or maybe the only winds were the ones in Chan's mind. 

"I am."

"Couldn't sleep?" Jeongin hadn't blinked since he first spoke, although Chan's sure that he'd taken a couple of minutes to respond. "I can't blame you. I can't believe that you weren't told about my arrival. That- that doesn't seem right."

Chan raised his eyebrows. Maybe it's the illusion of safety at night, for Jeongin's tone of voice seems to have changed. Ever since Chan had offered his room to be slept in, it was like the Fae had had a change of heart. The same vulnerability Chan thought he'd seen as they first left the hall together had returned in full swing. The unsurety, the curiosity and shyness. And now, the brash tone of his words.

"I'm sure my parents had their reasons," Chan said. "I'm rarely present for their discussions. And as they said: there are decisions they make in my absence that are for my own good."

Jeongin didn't seem convinced. "And yet it still seemed like a threat, did it not?"

It had. His own mother had had poison lacing her words when she'd spoken. In yet still, in some way, the fear that had lingered in her eyes had been so much worse.

But that hadn't been the point that Jeongin had been making. He was saying something different - that in the darkest of Chan's moments, he could only bear to imagine. About what he deserved and what he didn't, why he sat down and took such hatred when he hadn't asked for such a burden in the first place.

It didn't matter in the end. Whether Chan told them his true feelings or not, whether he finally swallowed the lump in his throat and finally asked them to look past the monster they saw when they looked at him. Nothing he could do would change that fear. 

He was fairly certain that anything he'd do would make it worse, in fact. He'd still succumb to the shadows in the end either way, but at least this way it would inflict the least amount of pain on everyone else. 

It was only when Jeongin started to speak again that he realised how caught up in his own thoughts he'd become. The storm had picked up speed, drowning his perception of time and leaving them in a thoughtless silence.

"There's a darkness within these walls."

Chan's heart dropped. Maybe it was foolish to think that Jeongin would be the first person to see past the prophecy lying on Chan's head. Of course, he'd been able to sense the shadows creeping within the stone and tile, spread there with every lingering footstep Chan pressed into the floors. 

He almost wanted to say so. But what would be the point? He'd only be repeating what he'd been told his entire life, surely Jeongin had heard the same rumours. Instead, he bit his tongue and forced himself to be courteous, changing the topic of conversation. "I was unaware that Fae could sense presences like that."

"We can't." Jeongin frowned, "Or at least, _I_ can't. I can't speak for the members of the Courts."

"What did you mean then?"

Maybe he had taken Jeongin slightly more off-guard than he'd originally thought. The boy had to stop to think, almost as if he were running through the words in his mind before allowing himself to speak them.

In actuality, that probably wasn't very far from the truth. He likely was trying to think of phrasings that wouldn't offend Chan. "Don't worry," He said, when Jeongin didn't respond in the next few moments, "I've heard it all before. Don't feel like you have to hold your tongue."

Jeongin looked at him, then. "You're a strange man, Bang Chan," he repeated, "I wouldn't be able to tell whether you've left any shadows here. No, I meant... simply that it doesn't _fit_."

"That what doesn't fit?"

"The walls and the ceilings. The tiles on the floor and the roses in the gardens. There's something in between them, I'm sure of it."

With that, they fell into silence. Chan's mind was still stuck on Jeongin's words, turning and twisting them over in his mind, trying to make any sense of them. They simply seemed too cryptic - so strange that he had half a mind to simply put the whole experience down to Jeongin's Fae nature. Trickery and mischief ran through his veins. It wouldn't be much of a stretch to suggest that he was toying with Chan's mind.

But that didn't seem quite right. No, Jeongin had seen far too sincere. And he'd finally turned over after he'd finished speaking, pulling the blankets up around his chin and curling his knees to his chest. If he'd meant to toy with him, he would have wanted to see Chan's reaction. 

The thoughts weren't necessarily good ones - all betrayal and manipulation, whether he could judge Jeongin's character by the same standards he'd fallen to his entire life - but they certainly distracted him from the storm raging in the deeper parts of his mind.

Before Chan could realise it, he was opening his eyes to the first rays of sunlight illuminating the room. 

Time to pack up.

Jeongin looked like he was still asleep, which was a slight worry, but Chan knew that he couldn't delay preparing for his journey any longer. Even if it felt cruel to disturb the boy when they'd stayed awake for so long last night, he couldn't risk being late to his own departure.

As quietly as he could, he started to gather his belongings.

It wouldn't take long. Most of the supplies wouldn't be found in his room. They'd include the items that would actually be useful; weapons, maps and compasses that were guaranteed to work no matter where the prophecy took him, enough food to last several weeks - although it was still unknown how long it would take him to locate the 'seven others'. 

Or how long the prophecy would be expected to take in the first place.

There was usually a catalyst, wasn't there? Something that set the wheels of fate into motion, causing the words that had been spoken so long ago to finally ring true. Mortals weren't supposed to decide when their lives started, and yet here Chan was, as the complete and utter mercy of his parents. 

The thought left a sour taste prophecy in his mouth.

All Chan had to collect, really, were his personal belongings. He doubted that he'd ever be returning to this room - even if the prophecy took years to come to light, he knew that once he left the castle, he wouldn't be allowed to return. There wouldn't be much room in the bags of their supplies for material possessions either, but even then, it was much easier than he'd originally thought to decide what few items to take with him.

A necklace that he'd been gifted before he knew what bribery was. It was silver, much to garish to place around his neck when such standards were expected him in the castle, but maybe he'd have the chance to finally wear it outside of the walls.

He'd sewn himself a stuffed toy when he was seven, and that joined the necklace in the bag. It didn't look much like the intended design - it had been supposed to look like a fluffy brown and white dog, but had ended up simply resembling the two pieces of fabric he'd started with cut and messily sewn together. 

And apart from that...

He collected clothes easily. A few light shirts and trousers, paired with a thick fur coat and a fitted jacket. If they went somewhere that needed specific clothes other than the short range, well. Chan wasn't exactly short on funds. Even if he found five of the remaining six people quickly, buying a whole new wardrobe for each of them would barely be worth blinking. 

Once he'd pulled most of the clothes from his wardrobe, it only seemed to highlight how empty the rest of his room was. Aside from the few personal belongings he'd already packed, the clothes were the only thing that had really been _his_. 

He was just stuffing the fur coat into the bag when Jeongin shifted. His eyes were already open - staring right at Chan, just as they had the night before - posing the question of how long he'd been awake already. 

Jeongin pulled the blankets off of his body in one smooth motion, sitting up and using one hand to pat down his hair. His clothes were slightly crumpled from being slept in, but Chan doubted that anyone would notice. The legs of his trousers were still splattered with mud anyway. And his button-black eyes, his twig hair, that would stop anyone from making any further unwanted judgements. 

"Good morning," Chan said, hoping that he hadn't disturbed Jeongin whilst packing. "How did you sleep."

Jeongin ignored his question. "What time are we leaving?" He asked, rubbing his eyes. His earlier smoothing of his hair hadn't been that successful. Large parts of it stood completely upright, almost as if they were being held to attention. It certainly wasn't a position that normal hair would be able to remain in, and Chan had to force himself to look away.

"I was told tomorrow morning. But nothing more specific than that, I'm afraid."

Jeongin hummed in thought. "They seemed rather eager to get rid of you, last night." It was obvious who he was referring to by 'they'. The Chan from yesterday might have corrected him. The Chan from today - who was, by any standards, a slightly different person already, kept his mouth firmly closed. "I'd assume by that they meant shortly after dawn. What time is it now?"

"About six."

"Well," Jeongin stood up. "We better set off then." His eyes stared at Chan in the same way that they had before - large, unblinking and almost completely emotionless - but Chan couldn't find it within himself to be unsettled. Maybe that was unsettling in itself. After only knowing the Fae boy for less than a day, he already felt... different, around him. 

It was a strange feeling. He had to keep bring himself back to reality, kept finding himself drawn back to endless self-doubt. It seemed stupid to think that Jeongin's presence had really changed so much of his mental state, but it seemed to be the truth. 

Jeongin had approached him without fear in his eyes. As little as that actually was, it had somehow turned Chan's entire world view upside-down. 

Chan nodded his agreement, mouth suddenly too dry to speak.

It was only a short trip to the stables. Chan's bedroom wasn't that far from the entrance to the castle's huge gardens, and there were several shortcuts to the stables through the connecting pathways. He purposefully avoided taking Jeongin past the rosebushes he'd tended for so carefully - no would look after them whilst he was gone, unfortunately, and it hurt too much to look at them one last time with that knowledge.

It certainly wasn't as cold as the day before, luckily. The grass was still frosted underneath their feet, but his thick jacket was doing a much more successful job of keeping him warm at this temperature. The sun was only a few inches over the horizon, so perhaps it would even get warmer further into the day. 

Jeongin's cloak looked thin from the outside, but Chan could guess there were at least a few enchantments over the fabric. Hopefully it would provide him with enough protection from the weather, as it didn't appear that he had any belongings with him at all.

"I'm assuming it's this one."

Chan stopped in his tracks, turning to see where Jeongin was referring to. They were at the very edges of the stables, where the least valuable horses were kept furthest from the warmth and care. The buildings were well-kept, but there was an undeniable difference in treatment between the animals here and the ones closer to the castle. 

Underneath the roof of the stable buildings, leaning against the fence holding the horses back, lay a pile of items. The waterproofing of the bags was practically the same colour as the mud-stained wooden walkway, that must have been why Chan missed it the first time. That, and the startlingly small number of supplies.

He picked one of the bags up, pulling it open to check the insides. 

Food, a mixture of smaller cloth sacks and packaged preservable. Already, he could see bread, as well as wrapped cheese and cured meat. The bags were for them, there was no denying it. 

"There's no one here," Jeongin commented. He'd come up beside Chan, and peered into the darkness of the stable - the sun rising from the wrong angle to illuminate any of the shadows. "Any instructions, or guidance?"

Chan shook his head. "No." The sides of the bags were slightly damp and cold to touch. Yes, the weather must have cooled them down from the fires of the kitchen quite quickly, but these bags had obviously been outside for hours. 

"Figures."

There were two smaller satchels to the side of the larger bags. Chan pulled one to himself, checking the insides. When he saw a mixture of useful items - bags of money, a dagger slipped into the side of the fabric, a metal compass in the front pocket - he passed the other to Jeongin. 

He hummed at the weapon. "There's only one sword," he pointed out, "Guess that must be yours. And that they don't trust me with weapons, I presume."

Chan didn't reply. There was all the equipment to carry the sword properly, and it only took him a few moments to have the weapon safely by his side. The satchel was swung over his shoulders with the same amount of speed, and then he was straightening up to check out the horses.

It wasn't a particularly large stable, and the three horses inside likely hadn't been there for long. Chan nodded once at Jeongin, who'd put his shoe onto the fence in a silent question. With the two of them both helping, it didn't take long before two horses were kitted up with saddles and reins, and the last carrying a large amount of the supply bags. 

Chan tried to keep his hands steady as he led his horse out of the fence. He'd grown up riding horses - learning from a distance and by reading books, so the thought of journeying like this wasn't surprising. That was one of the few things his parents had actually done for him. It had been important that he knew how to ride, even if no one had wanted to teach him. 

He didn't know how much they'd paid the man who eventually taught him, but he knew that it had to be a lot. 

No, his hands were shaking for a completely different reason. Jeongin was sat on his own horse a couple of metres in front of him. His position was a lot shakier. Maybe he'd only learnt to rise recently, once he knew that he'd been selected to...

Was this an honour, for Jeongin, or a curse?

Did he want to be here, did he want to ride with Chan until his death and then coat his hands with his blood? Or would he much rather be somewhere else, somewhere where the path wasn't as clouded with shadow and bone and fear?

"Do you know where to head first?"

Chan startled, not expecting to be brought out of his thoughts so easily. He held the reins of his horse a little tighter, and forced all those thoughts from his mind. He'd been preparing for this his entire life. It was prophesied, he had no choice in the matter.

The world was in front of him, and he could go anywhere he liked.

_ (He could spread the darkness inside of him. He could put the people that he met into danger - innocent people who he couldn't blame for treating him with such hatred, with excusable fear in their eyes. They didn't deserve to die. Or, for the first time in his life, he could be something else.) _

"I've never been outside of the castle," Chan said, slowly, taking every word part piece by piece. His hands were still trembling, his heart still pounding, but now for a very different reason. There was an unfamiliar feeling in his chest, drowning out the uncertainty for the first time ever.

Acceptance, maybe.

The knowledge of his inevitable death.

And yet, right at this very moment, all he could think about was the potential in front of him. 

"What's the nearest city? How far away is it?"

"Uh," Jeongin paused for a second, "The nearest city is actually the capital, as far as I know. It's close enough for constant trade with the castle, so perhaps six hours on horse." He was smiling, Chan realised. Did he have the same feeling in his chest? Did he also feel somehow lighter, indescribably weightless?

Chan flicked the reins of his horse. "We better get going then."


End file.
